


Memories

by icantthinkofagoodurl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, agnst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantthinkofagoodurl/pseuds/icantthinkofagoodurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things you forget when you live for as long as Merlin has. More than you would expect. Memories don’t stick in your mind the way they used to; there are too many of them. But there are some things he will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

There are a lot of things you forget when you live for as long as he has. More than you would expect. Memories don’t stick in your mind the way they used to; there are too many of them. It’s not that you forget them completely; it just takes a moment to focus on what you want to think about. Even longer if you want to remember details, the colour of his hair, the way he smiled. Those are harder to recall.

Most would think that the oldest memories would be the hardest to think of, but it’s not like that at all. Those memories, growing up in Ealdor, meeting him, protecting him, loving him, they will never be forgotten. But the others, the memories after losing him, they don’t stick in his mind long.

There are no constants in his life, not anymore. There is only the magic that sings in his veins and the world changing around him. He doesn’t fit. He has lived to long, seen too much, lost everything.

There was a time when he joined the world, where he fought in wars and stood in protests. That time has passed, because he will always outlive those around him. And he has lost too much to allow himself to grow close to anyone. That’s what he tells himself, though he knows it’s more because he is afraid. Because he looks for him in everyone he meets, and he never finds him.

Memories are fickle things, while sometimes it takes all his energy to remember small details, other times his thoughts can be overrun with a scene or an image and he is unable to get it out of his head for days, sometimes weeks. He prefers the memories that catch him unawares. Usually.

Hatred is not a part of his life, it never really was. He didn’t hate Morgana for the way she let her hatred twist her soul. He didn’t hate Mordred for his betrayal. The little time he wastes on hating is for only one thing. The Lake. It’s petty, the hatred he has for it. It’s not The Lake that failed his King. But when he sits at it’s shore as he is now, staring out at its still waters and remembering. He can’t help but hate it.

He doesn’t come here often, can hardly bear to. But he has never lived far from it. It feels like a betrayal somehow. Like forgetting. The Lake is the only thing that makes his memories real. He hates it for that.

He felt pulled here this time, to the shores of The Lake. He can’t explain it, doesn’t truly understand it, but he needs to be here. He won’t admit it to himself, but he has begun to hope.

He’s nervous; he knows he has no reason to be, but that knowledge does nothing to the twisting in his gut. He rips a reed from the sand and wraps it’s leaf around his finger. Unwraps it, wraps it again. He wipes his sweating palms on the thighs of his jeans.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Won’t allow his mind to go down that path. If he hopes then he will be disappointed, best not to hope.

He distracts himself with his memories. The rage he felt when Percival found him standing by the water, staring out at a boat that had long since drifted away. The grief as the man told him of Gwaine’s death. The tears that neither of them bothered to wipe away. He remembers the way that the Knight asked him to come back to Camelot with him, to come home. The understanding in Percival’s eyes when he told him it wasn’t home anymore. Not without him. The sadness as they parted ways. Both men knowing that they wouldn’t see each other again, not for a long time.

He remembered burying Morgana under stones, because for all her mistakes, they had been friends once. In another life, maybe they could be again.

He thought of the way his King’s eyes would crinkle when he laughed. How his mood would sour when he was hungry. How his love for his people effected every decision he made.

He didn’t know when he had started crying.

The Lake wasn’t still anymore. The water rippled out from the centre. Small waves crashing onto the sand.

He stands. Waiting, he has been waiting for a long time; that time is over now.

He smiles.

A figure approaches from The Lake; it’s features difficult to make out in the darkness. The only sound is the splashing of the water and a slight clinking of metal on metal.

He would know him anywhere, His King, His Love, His Arthur.

“Don’t be such a girl Merlin, it’s not like I’m dead.” There’s a pause. Arthur must have seen his expression. “Too soon?”  
“Too soon.” He confirmed. Matching grins grew on their faces, they grasped each other in a hug, their bodies expressing their happiness in ways they never would with words.

The sorcerer hiccupped a sob, letting go of the turmoil of emotions inside him and clinging to Arthur. His King held him, whispering plaintive words in his ear. They stayed that way for some time.

Merlin pulled away, meeting Arthur’s eyes, “You’re really here?” his words were barely above a whisper, he sounded so afraid, clinging to Arthur like he would disappear at any moment. Arthur’s heart wrenched.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd all mistakes are my own
> 
> This is my first published work on archive, please comment!


End file.
